Various Artists

MMG Presents: Self Made, Vol. 1

On a major roll these last couple of years, Rick Ross here assembles an introduction to his label, which includes Wale and Meek Mill.

Wale's short career has taken some weird and fascinating turns. When the D.C. rapper first came on the scene, he was a hero to a certain kind of fan-- a conscious rapper who talked about sneakers just as easily as he talked about struggles, and one who seemed comfortable rapping over different styles but who remained tied to his city's grassroots go-go scene. 2008's The Mixtape About Nothing took its "Seinfeld" theme as an unlikely jumping-off point and ended up on plenty of year-end best-of lists. But then Wale's hyped-up official debut album, 2009's Attention Deficit, was a stylistic jumble that bricked hard commercially and didn't make good on his promise with critics, and his last few mixtapes have lacked a clear direction. Last year, Wale randomly turned up on "No Hands", a strip-club track from crunk revivalist Waka Flocka Flame; when Wale put the song on his mixtape More About Nothing, he called it "The Guilty Pleasure". But "No Hands" became a massive rap-radio hit and probably saved Wale's career. In guest appearances since then, he's been remaking himself as a snarly pimp, a role that actually fits him pretty well. And then, in a truly unlikely move, surging drug-rap superstar Rick Ross signed Wale to his Maybach Music imprint.

Rick Ross had a triumphant 2010. He scored the hit of the summer with the blaring gangsta anthem "B.M.F. (Blowin' Money Fast)"-- this despite the fact that everyone now knows that he spent time pre-rap as a prison guard and that all his tales of kingpin life are straight theatrical bullshit. He's also greatly improved as a rapper since his inauspicious beginnings, concentrating on his strengths and finding a decadent edge for his grunt-heavy, larger-than-life delivery. His Teflon Don was one of rap's best albums of 2010. And after the year he just had, he must feel like he can do anything; that's one way, anyway, to explain the roster he's assembled at Maybach Music.

Right now, the label features mostly promising young critic favorites who haven't shown the kind of charisma it takes to be an actual star; Wale is just the beginning. There's also Meek Mill, a young and squeaky-voiced Philly rapper who carries the torch for ex-State Property guys like Peedi Crakk. There's Pill, a raspy fast-rapping Atlanta mixtape guy. There's Teedra Moses, a long-underrated R&B singer-songwriter who hasn't been anywhere near the pop marketplace since she released her strong 2004 album Complex Simplicity. All these artists have their strengths, and all of them work best in very specific contexts. But on the group album Self Made, Vol. 1, Ross pulls all of them away from their respective comfort zones and tosses them headfirst into the stormy, orchestral arena-rap that he himself favors. The end result is predictable: they all sound lost.

Wale, Meek, and Pill are all gifted technical rappers, but technical rappers can disappear when they show up on something like Just Blaze's stormy, cluttered title track. Even though all three MCs have distinct voices, accents, and deliveries, they blur into one multisyllabic mush on songs like these-- dancing around the edges of these tracks rather than bulldozing through them the way Ross does. (Moses, meanwhile, is generally limited to cooing wordlessly in the background; she's sadly a non-factor here.) Of the three rappers, Meek has the best moments; tough-talking hard on the street single "Tupac Back" (though his Pac impression could use some work). Pill shows no signs of any discernible personality here, but his growl of a voice makes him a decent-enough supporting player on a few of these tracks. But Wale just sounds utterly confused, kvetching about his past industry troubles and vowing that he's going to keep his integrity intact even though he sounds more interested in talking about clothes and girls than in displaying any of that vaunted integrity. At this point, he seems to have no idea who he is.

Ross mostly takes a backseat on the album, but his brief appearances, usually limited to hooks, show why he's in a different universe from his charges. A song like "Pacman" is clearly intended as a Pill showcase, but Ross is tough and loose and funny ("All my power pellets, turn you bitch niggas to ghosts!") while Pill is serious and clenched and anonymous. When non-Maybach Music guests stop through, the problem gets even worse. Jadakiss absolutely schools Wale on "600 Benz", while J. Cole-- a rapper with an Internet-friendly mixtape pedigree just like the younger Maybach Music guys-- still whups everyone's ass on "Fitted Cap". Longtime Ross associate Gunplay only gets one appearance, which is too bad; he conveys more verve and passion in his one verse than his new labelmates manage in all their showcases.

If Wale, Meek, and Pill could find a way to focus on their own strengths, maybe they'd sound more comfortable alongside their new boss. Instead, they all sound like they're trying to become mini-Rosses, and it doesn't work for them. Self Made, Vol. 1 is designed to demonstrate that Ross' new proteges can succeed in rap's major leagues, but it proves the opposite.